How kitchen witchery weaves magic, care, and resistance into the everyday lives of queer communities.
The Cultural Power of Kitchen Witches
Picture this: a lone figure standing at the stove, stirring a pot of herbal tea as candles flicker in the window, casting a soft light across the room. Herbs are tied in bundles nearby, and the rich, grounding smell of freshly baked bread fills the air. This is a kitchen witch at work, someone who infuses everyday tasks—cooking, cleaning, tending to the home—with subtle magic and intention. Kitchen witchery transforms the mundane into something sacred.
Historically, witches weren’t just marginalized figures practicing in secret—they were village leaders, healers, and midwives. In pre-patriarchal societies, these wise women held a respected place in the community. They understood the power of plants, cared for the sick, assisted in childbirth, and offered spiritual guidance. They were central to community survival, their knowledge deemed essential, these figures revered.
But with the rise of patriarchy and organized religion, the role of these women became increasingly dangerous to the male-dominated power structures that were solidifying across Europe. Women who exercised autonomy—over their bodies, their communities, or their spiritual practices—were seen as threats. The witch hunts of the 15th to 18th centuries weren’t simply about superstition but about punishing those who defied patriarchal control. Gender-nonconforming people, too, were caught in the crosshairs, as their existence disrupted the rigid binaries that underpinned these systems of power.
This historical suppression echoes modern experiences of marginalization within the LGBTQ+ community. Much like the witches of old, queer individuals have been demonized for stepping outside societal norms. The deep connection between kitchen witchery and queerness makes perfect sense: both groups have been punished for their autonomy and their defiance of traditional roles. Today, queer folks are reclaiming that space, using kitchen witchery to create power, care, and community on their own terms.
Why Kitchen Witchery Appeals to the LGBTQ+ Community
For many LGBTQ+ people, many mainstream religions have historically been spaces of exclusion. Strict doctrines that define gender and sexuality in rigid, patriarchal terms often leave no room for queer identities, labeling them as sinful or unnatural. Many queer folks who have experienced rejection from their religious communities are left spiritually adrift, seeking alternative forms of connection and meaning. This is where kitchen witchery steps in—a practice that offers not only a path to personal spiritual fulfillment but also the freedom to define magic on one’s own terms.
Kitchen witchcraft is accessible and flexible, relying on intention rather than expensive tools or rigid practices. Stirring soup with love, brewing tea for healing, or lighting a candle with a prayer becomes an intimate act of magic, transforming daily routines into something sacred. For queer people who’ve had to fight for their autonomy, this form of magic—so grounded in the everyday—feels empowering. It allows them to take control of their lives and find magic in the small, mundane moments.
Kitchen witchery is more than just a craft—it’s a quiet rebellion, a way for queer people to reclaim power and create magic in the spaces society often overlooks.”
Chosen family also plays a pivotal role in this connection. For LGBTQ+ individuals who may have been estranged from their biological families, building homes with friends and partners becomes a lifeline. In these chosen families, kitchen witchery serves as a way to strengthen bonds through care and intentionality. Cooking meals for loved ones, creating herbal remedies, and offering these acts of loving service turn kitchens into sacred spaces where love, magic, and survival intermingle.
Furthermore, kitchen witchcraft subverts traditional gender roles. Historically linked to femininity, the practice of domestic magic becomes a space for gender fluidity and creative self-expression. Queer folks, who often exist outside the strict binaries of gender, find resonance in a practice that is inherently fluid. Magic in the kitchen invites all genders to participate and reclaims domesticity from patriarchal constraints. It’s a space where queerness, autonomy, and magic can overlap freely, without the limitations of society’s expectations.
The Modern Witchcraft Renaissance
In recent years, witchcraft has seen a resurgence, particularly in queer spaces. Tarot, crystals, astrology, and other esoteric practices have gained significant popularity, thanks in part to social media. This modern witchcraft renaissance is not just about aesthetics—though the visual elements are undeniably captivating—it’s about reclaiming power in a world that seeks to limit it.
Kitchen witchery, in particular, is incredibly accessible. Unlike more elaborate magical traditions that might require expensive tools or complex rituals, kitchen witchcraft thrives on simplicity. A pot, some herbs, a candle, and intention—that’s all it takes. For queer people, who are often left out of more institutionalized forms of spirituality, this low-barrier approach feels welcoming and empowering.
In a hostile political climate, where queer rights are continuously challenged, the act of claiming space—whether through making a meal with love or lighting a candle for protection—becomes an act of resistance. Kitchen witchcraft is not just about survival; it’s about thriving on your own terms. It provides a sense of control, of autonomy, in a world that tries to strip both from marginalized people.
The Power of Everyday Magic: Stories from Queer Kitchen Witches
Ariane, a kitchen witch living in northern Germany, describes her practice as an extension of her intersectional identity as a trans woman. “I am not just trans. I am not just a woman. I am not just depressed. I am Ariane—a complex weirdness.” For her, kitchen witchery is about asserting control over her life, a way of reclaiming power in spaces where it’s often denied to her.
“When I’m in the kitchen, conjuring a complex meal, that is the time I am free and without worry,” she says. “For once I am in control of ALL, and I get to make something nice out of the all.” The act of cooking, for Ariane, becomes a ritual of empowerment. It’s more than just preparing food—it’s an opportunity to care for herself and her community, transforming limited resources into acts of love.
Genevieve, a queer kitchen and hedge witch from Toronto, finds magic in the everyday, blending practical domesticity with intention. She describes herself as a hedge witch—someone who imbues magic into household tasks like cooking and cleaning. “It could be a specific motion I make with a utensil or a spice shaker, a number of times to stir or shake something—anything like that.” Her rituals, subtle yet intentional, are grounded in energy work and positive intentions.
Genevieve also speaks to the way witchcraft is often trivialized, especially by cishet men. “Cishet dudes tend to mock or insult anyone who claims craft at all, calling it teenage girl shit or attention-seeking,” she says. For queer women like Genevieve, witchcraft offers a means to claim space and power in a world that often seeks to diminish them. It’s about autonomy—taking control of one’s energy, one’s magic, and one’s life in the face of ridicule and dismissal.
Indie (they / them), a non-binary transmasculine person living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, shares a different take. Their kitchen witchcraft is deeply informed by their Jewish heritage, and their queerness is intertwined with this identity. “Jewish witchcraft is ancient in its roots, and the experience of being an outsider is as integral a part of being a Jew as it is being queer,” they say. For Indie, their practice connects them to a long lineage of Jewish ancestors, particularly through rituals like lighting candles, working with jars and garlic, and following the lunar cycle. “Jewish holidays aren’t religious; they’re celebrating and mourning our continued survival and resilience, seeking justice and looking after one another. The rituals overlap with being queer, especially trans.”
Indie describes their favorite ritual of Tashlich, where they cast bread into a river as a symbolic way of throwing away past mistakes and preparing for the new year. “It feels cathartic, like releasing all the weight I’ve carried,” they explain. For Indie, even everyday acts—whether it’s tossing bread into water or lighting candles for the Sabbath—are opportunities to merge their queerness and their cultural identity. “It’s making the mundane magical,” they say, reflecting on how even the simplest rituals can feel transformative.
Empowerment Through Ritual
Ariane, Genevieve, and Indie each offer a unique glimpse into the transformative power of kitchen witchery. For all of them, these practices are about more than just spirituality—they are acts of survival, reclamation, and community building. Whether it’s cooking a meal with intention, casting off the burdens of the past, or creating a magical home for loved ones, kitchen witchery empowers queer folks to take control of their own magic, to reclaim their agency in a world that often denies it.
Kitchen witchery offers LGBTQ+ people an accessible, powerful way to infuse everyday tasks with intention and meaning. It’s about turning the mundane into the magical, asserting autonomy in domestic spaces, and creating small acts of resistance through care. And in doing so, it provides a powerful form of connection—whether to one’s chosen family, ancestors, or community—fostering resilience in the face of a world that often seeks to diminish us.
Happy Hallowe’en from TML, readers. Have fun, and stay safe out there.